Writing 101: The Things We Treasure

The things we treasure.  Things, people, material, non-material, the list is endless.

Some things you treasure today may not be as precious tomorrow.  This is especially so for material items.  In most cases when you treasure a person, that treasure will be for life.  The love a parent has for her child remains forever.  Her child (or children) are her lifetime treasure.

Bolster - Image credit http://www.minime.com.my/

For material things, as far as I remembered, as a young child, my treasure was my bolster.  It gave me comfort holding on to it and hugging it to sleep. Bolster – Image credit http://www.minime.com.my/

scrabble1

As I grew older, my treasures were my board games of scrabbles and monopoly.  Image credit http://www.ananseproductions.com/taking-apart-scrabble/

bluey

Finally this is my treasure. Bluey has been with me for the last fifteen years. He sleeps with me and travels with me.

My most-prized possession is a teddy bear named Bluey.  I used to travel quite a lot at the prime of my career, spending nights in hotels away from home.  I wanted something personal on my bed.  He is a bean bag teddy bear, brown but for some reason, I named him Bluey.  Whenever I travel, he comes with me.  For long haul flights, he is my pillow.  Often times I wondered if anyone would find it weird that this middle aged lady still carries her ‘toy’ with her but I just chose not to be bothered with what others think as long as I feel good, feel safe and feel at home.  My Bluey is my comfort.  He would still be in perfect condition if not for my dog who sometimes went silly and nibbled my poor Bluey.

The things we treasure has no price tag.  Our children, our treasure too has no price tag.  My treasure is not any diamond, gold or any precious gems.  It is something I hold dear in my heart, even old and worn.

 

TREASURE_QUOTE

 

 What is your most-prized possession?

 

 

 

For our final assignment, tell the tale of your most-prized possession. If you’re up for a twist, go long — experiment with longform and push yourself to write more than usual.

via Writing 101: The Things We Treasure.

 

This may not be a second hand story but it is a story close to the writer’s heart who over the years have heard from family and friends with similar viewpoints.  The things we treasure is not necessarily diamond or gold.

via Daily Prompt : Second-hand stories

Writing 101 : A story told by a twelve-year-old

The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.

Today’s prompt: write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street.

 

 

It was a cold day.  Thank God I wore triple layered.  I could not remembered when dad last washed my blue jumper which kept me warm for the whole of this winter.  I wore a singlet inside my blue jumper and outside I have a brown pullover knitwear.  It used to have  a string dangling out but Mrs Pauley tied and knotted it.  She said a stitch came loose and never to pull it or the jumper will fall apart.

Mrs Pauley was the lady that lived across the road.  She was kind to me.  One day many years ago when I was five years old, she chased away the bigger kids that punched me to the ground and calling me “nigger”.  She dressed my wounds and I asked her what was a “nigger”.  She said it was a word that nasty white people used on black people to tell them they were different.   She told me never to be ashamed of my color.  Since that incident, I learned that “nigger” is just a word.  I am a “nigga” and when I think of kind Mrs Pauley, a white lady with a wrinkled face I am not afraid of that “n” word.  It can no longer hurt me.

I saw a police car and two policemen and Mr Brown, her landlord went inside the house.  I sat there on the stoop across the street and watched.  I hoped they won’t hurt Mrs Pauley.  She had been very sad since Mr Pauley died and I knew she had no money because she spent all her money buying medicine for Mr Pauley.  She told me she has six sons but I have never seen any of them.  Maybe Mrs Pauley talked to me because I am the only boy living in this block and she never minded that I am a “nigga”.

Then all these people came out and Mrs Pauley too.  She wasn’t crying but she looked sad.  I wanted to go across but Mr Brown looked so fierce and those policemen were big men and I shivered.  Are they taking her away?  I plucked up my courage, stood up and walked closer .  Mrs Pauley smiled at me.  She got into the police car carrying a torn luggage.  She turned her head and looked back as the car moved and I waved goodbye.  I felt very sad.  Mrs Pauley did not cry so I too must not cry.  I did not know where they are bringing her but I will always remember good old Mrs Pauley who taught me never to fear the word “nigger”.  One day when I am old enough to work and earn money, I am going to the police and find Mrs Pauley and bring her back home.

“Dear Momma―Wherever you are, if ever you hear the word “nigger” again, remember they are advertising my book.”
Dick Gregory, Nigger

via Daily Prompt : Local color

Love in 400 words

Love makes the world go round. Though no facts or figures proven, love can make one sink or rise. It is a powerful emotion.

There are many kinds of love all evolving around emotions, the care for another human being or an item. It can be a parent’s love for a child, siblings love, friendship, a couple’s love or love for a pet. It can also be love for material things which is sometimes good, most times bad. Love can become obsessive and an addiction.  As the saying goes, the love of money is the root of all evils.  Money is a means to an end but when one gets greedy that’s when love snaps and tragedy steps in.

In most cases a child is born out of love. In this destructive world some children are conceived through rapes not love. Some are born into a world of suffering and having to fight all odds to stay alive in poverty.  Irregardless of the nature of one’s birth whether born poor or rich, as long as there is love, there is survival. Love surrounds even in the most war-torn countries. Lives may be hard but everyone is capable of giving love. Love is caring, love is giving, love is comforting.  All these equal encouragement and hope in the darkest hour.

A new born child comes into the world with no expectations.  That child yearns to be loved.  Love to be fed, love to be cuddled and in return the child chuckles exuding love and bond to the carer.  Love is all it takes to create peace and harmony.

Love is free to give but priceless to receive.  Love is a two people thing. It takes one to give and another to receive. It may be one-sided in some cases.  When someone gives all the time, is there any point in time when the giver surrenders in exhaustion? Will there be a time when the receiver gets too much love?  If only there is a balance.  Some people are so blessed with love while others are deprived of love.

True love is unconditional and rewarding. When one gives and not expect, the reward is the inner sense of satisfaction from doing good deeds to your fellowmen, sharing and caring for the less fortunate in making the world a better place to live.

What does love means to you in four hundred words?

via Writing 101 : Don’t Stop the Rockin’
Today is a free writing day. Write at least four-hundred words, and once you start typing, don’t stop.
Four-hundred words. One at a time. Go.

Writing 101 : What is your worst fear

Life is precious.
Life is short.
In good times
the moments pass
far too fast.
In bad times
they linger on.

 

When you love
somebody,
be it a family,
a friend or a pet
you grow so attached
with their presence
often taken for granted.

 

Life is precious.
Life is short.
Cherish your loved ones
because
you never know
when they won’t be there
anymore.

 

The passing of a loved one
is my worst fear.

 

lovedones

 

via Writing 101: Your Personality on the Page
What are you scared of?  Address one of your worst fears.  If you’re up for a twist, write this post in a style that’s different from your own.

Writing 101 : Your voice will find you

Body art is a true form of art.  I first attended this annual event five years ago and attended every year thereafter.  Unfortunately for reasons not known (perhaps lack of funds or sponsors) at the event last year, the organizers announced there will not be an annual show this year.  This was exactly how they announced it.

The show will take a break next year and return in 2015 allowing the production team to refocus the event and seek new sponsorship opportunities.

There are many who are not aware of this form of art. Body art uses the human body as a means of artistic expression.  In layman terms, it is body painting.  The past year’ shows were spectacular Body Art Showcase and Awards nights for young and emerging artists who competed across a diverse range of genres that includes special effects, fantasy, creatures, prosthetic masks and body painting.

Simply said, body art is a spectacular show.  I honestly have no idea why we had to miss out on the show this year.  The date for next year’s show had just been announced where we are expecting an evening of celebrating creativity and entertainment featuring artists not only from around New Zealand but from all around the world.

You may think that all models in the show has to have Victoria Secret bodies.  This is not necessarily so because the focus is on the artists’ creativity, their paintings on whatever body shape and size.  This is what true art is all about.  To me, it is the ability to beautify and polish what is available.

The coming show next year better happen otherwise I may go on a rally to recruit all body shapes to do the catwalk and all artists whether they are body art artists or anyone and everyone who are passionate to showcase their painting on human skin.  Those who go around doing graffiti on walls or other public places may be potentially our next body art artist.

You never know,  a body art with a difference may be in the pipeline.

 

Disclaimer :  This is the writer’s viewpoint (my voice) and certainly not the consensus of any talented body art artists or the general public.

 

Snazaroo Hand Painted Novice- Highly Commended: Cathy Davies Model: Allison Millair.  Image credit NZ Body Arts Award Facebook Page

Snazaroo Hand Painted Novice- Highly Commended: Cathy Davies Model: Allison Millair. Image credit NZ Body Arts Award Facebook Page

 

 

via Writing 101 : Your voice will find you
You’re told that an event that’s dear to your heart — an annual fair, festival, or conference — will be cancelled forever (or taken over by an evil organization). Write about it. For your twist, read your piece aloud, multiple times. Hone that voice of yours!

Writing 101 : Dear House …….

For this assignment I was told to pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29.

What’s the first word that jumps off the page?  Use this word as your springboard for inspiration.

I was looking for a word but that whole sentence was just shouting at me.

 

 

You’ll want a house on your own!

– Page 29, The Kite Runner –

 

 

Dear House

It is every mature human’s wish to have a house they could call their own.  On the streets, you and your kind stood tall and firm while this person and that person raise their hand and shout a price trying to outbid each other.  Sometimes you may even see someone sob when their dream house disappear before their eyes.

While the human race go around slaving and saving hard to buy their own house, have you ever wondered that you could stand a chance to leak and rot if you have a negligent owner?  You might even end up being a dilapidated house.  What if the humans decide one day to give up the house chasing game altogether and live in camper vans or boats instead or sophisticated tents with the advent of new technology?

Hence this letter is a tip and a gentle reminder.

On your big day tomorrow when I join the group of other bidders to raise my hand for you, do open your eyes and watch out for this lady in red.  Blow the lucky charm on her.  Make yourself within reach, affordable.  Make our marriage possible for your own good.

There is a saying that a house will beckon to its the rightful owner, something we humans called fate.

Be my house and you will be loved.

Yours truly
Perfect Houseowner (Miss)

 

 

Home Sweet Home Image credit http://galleryhip.com/cartoon-homes.html

Home Sweet Home
Image credit http://galleryhip.com/cartoon-homes.html

 

via Writing 101 : To whom it may concern
Today’s twist: write the post in the form of a letter.

Writing 101 : Serially found – My new wheels

Once upon a time for a whole five years, my company car had been my image, my identity. A purple hatchback with two huge company logos, one on each side of the passenger door was no joke. I even lost my name when the local café owners called me the X (company’s name) lady and my chidren grew up as the X kids.

That image was serially lost when I gave up being a career woman to a home maker.

I found my next wheels in a crowded room. There were rows of cars, some almost new, all in tip top condition brightly polished. The venue was a big warehouse with lots of inside parking and rows of chairs with people, some seated, some standing, several on their cellphones facing two big white boards, two stands and two rostrums, company officials neatly dressed in the front and two very aggressive speakers.

Two auctions were going on simultaneously. The auctioneer to the left was selling a charcoal Mazda 3.

11,100 do I hear another hundred?
11,400, 11,700, 12,000
Going once, going twice
SOLD !

The hammer came down. A sales person walked towards me, led me to the office to complete the formalities. The deal was closed.

My criteria was simple. It must not be purple. This time, it must be ME before the car and not the CAR before me.

Serially found. My new wheels.

 

That's not my new wheels.  Can you spot me anywhere?                      Image credit cardealermagazine.co.nz

That’s not my new wheels. Image credit cardealermagazine.co.nz

 

via Writing 101 : Serially found
On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today, write about finding something.